


Pull Me Down

by KyloReam



Series: I'm The Devil: 33 Days of Kylux Guro Fills [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), 33 Day Guro Challenge, Creepy Fluff, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Coital Cuddling, Schrodinger's Corpse Kylo Ren, Undertagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloReam/pseuds/KyloReam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armitage leans down, resting his head against Kylo’s chest. There’s no heartbeat, no rise and fall to show that he’s breathing, but his skin is still warm. He moves his head up and nuzzles against Kylo’s dark hair. It’s soft, shiny, clean-smelling. </p><p>His.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to start listing my fills for Kylux 33 Days of Guro as individual one-shots because they're all so different, and also because I'm doing less than I originally planned on doing. This is my fill for ball-joined dolls (I think today is doll day? maybe that was yesterday? heck idk). Check the end notes for spoilers.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: ["Pull Me Down"](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/04-pull-me-down-mikky-ekko-co) by Clams Casino.

Once he’s fully seated inside him, Armitage looks down and takes a moment to appreciate Kylo. 

He’s sprawled beneath him bonelessly, his arms loose at his sides. His head’s thrown back and while his eyes remain closed, his mouth has fallen slightly open, lips swollen and slick with pre come. His thick thighs are wrapped around Armitage's waist, but only because he placed them there. As he is, Kylo has no control of his body.

Armitage leans down, resting his head against Kylo’s chest. There’s no heartbeat, no rise and fall to show that he’s breathing, but his skin is still warm, all his orifices slick and wet. He moves his head up and nuzzles against Kylo’s dark hair. It’s soft, shiny, clean-smelling. 

His.

Before Starkiller Base’s implosion he’d had no idea his commander was attractive, and his first instinct upon seeing Kylo’s fractured body hadn’t been to berate him or punish him, but to kiss him. A pity he kept himself wrapped in so many rags, he thought as the med droids lasered off Kylo’s clothing and placed him one of the Finalizer’s bacta tanks. Armitage remembers watching him, thinking that he was beyond attractive, sublime even. He wanted Kylo’s body for himself, wanted every plane of muscle, every inch of beauty mark-speckled skin. After the ordeal he’d been put through, he felt he deserved some pretty things.

In the present, Armitage pushes himself out and into Kylo languidly, watching the way his hole puckers around his cock. He shows none of the resistance or emotion he’s known for, his body slack and putty-like under his hands. His head lolls to the side as they move, soft pink tongue just visible between parted lips and uneven teeth. “You’re taking it so well,” Armitage whispers gently, though there’s no chance he’d be heard and no way he’d get a reply. 

He wonders what Ren would think of this, whether he would be disgusted by the things done to his body. He had always seemed like the sort of person who’d freeze up at the slightest touch. Armitage tries to imagine him lying down willingly and allowing someone to take him apart the way he does. Another part of him wonders whether Ren would be perversely fascinated by his ministrations, whether he would surrender himself to being totally owned and controlled.

Armitage pushes them forward, propping Kylo up against the headboard, and cups his hand underneath his chin so he can tilt his head up. His sloe-shaped eyes flutter half-open beneath long dark lashes, as though he’s just on the verge of waking up. It’s innocent and obscene and goes straight to Armitage’s groin. He catches his reflection in Kylo’s dark, glazed-over eyes and thinks about devouring him. “You fucker,” he mutters before seizing forward and kissing him furiously. He bites into Kylo’s swollen lips, relishing the way their teeth click together and the way he can’t do anything about it. 

His arms drop to Kylo’s chest as he sucks bruises into his mottled skin. He grinds as deeply as he can into him and cups his pecs in his hands, kneading them together with enough force that, were he able to, Kylo would cry out in pain and arousal. He presses his thumbs deep into his nipples, watching as the nubs redden and swell under his hands. Kylo’s arms are limp at his sides, but Armitage can move them, and so he drapes those muscular arms over his shoulders, feeling the way his hands brush up against his skin as he pistons into Kylo.

There are so many things he wants to do with him. Maybe he’ll wrap one of those large hands around his cock and let Kylo jerk him off. Even flaccid and lifeless as he is, Kylo’s cock is still impressive, too. If he stretches himself out and slicks them both up he could ride him. Maybe, Armitage thinks to himself, he’ll bring himself off beforehand, then siphon his come inside himself and imagine Kylo put it there while he fucks himself on his cock. 

That thought’s enough to bring him to orgasm, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek, stifling the moan. He pumps himself inside of Kylo, feeling how deep he’s filling him. Armitage leans forward, pressing his forehead against Kylo’s own blank, thoughtless head, and feels one of his arms slide down from his own narrow shoulders. He pushes it back around himself, leans his cheek into those massive muscles, thinks about pulling out.

Eventually he does. Kylo’s arms slump back to his sides, his head falling down onto his chest. Armitage watches as his come leaks from Kylo’s hole for a moment before he scissors his fingers inside and scoops out as much as he can, drawing it into his mouth. 

The tastes of semen and synthskin blend together; not an unpleasant combination and by far a better flavor than if he had eaten his come from the actual Kylo Ren. He knows he ought to clean Kylo up, put him away so he won’t have extra work to do in the morning, but tonight Armitage decides he’s earned sleeping with Kylo.

He rolls over in bed, grabs his datapad, and loads the application that controls what little functions the synth-body possesses. He's pre-installed with a simulated heartbeat and breathing that can be responsive to external stimuli and his body temperature is adaptable. Armitage elected to add on a simple vocal package with samples of Ren’s voice he’d recorded during his recovery, though he rarely uses those. Part of the fantasy is having a Kylo who’s unable to speak, unable to make any noises of pleasure or protest. 

While Kylo’s breathing and heartbeat start up, Armitage combs some of the tangles out of his hair, imagines doing this with the real Ren, perhaps while whispering sweet nothings. He considers his face, wonders whether the manufacturer made Kylo _too_ pretty. He doesn’t have the lightsaber scar—Armitage requested that, wanted him unspoiled, virginal-looking—but his face feels as though it’s been smoothed out a bit into something more classically attractive, his nose slightly less long, ears a fraction pinned back. He doesn’t have the minutia of bruises and scars he remembers, though the thermochromic synthskin is good enough for simulating bruising and transmits heat realistically.

With the tangles brushed out, Kylo’s hair falls around his face in soft, fluffy waves. Armitage gently moves Kylo's eyelids so that his eyes are slightly downcast, crinkling his lower lids. The crinkles were something he’d argued about with the manufacturer, that they were as essential as the freckles and moles he’d documented while Ren slept or was suspended in bacta. He closes Kylo’s mouth but stretches his lips slightly, quirking them up at the edges, and the resulting expression is one of pure adoration. It’s a face he wants to see when he wakes up in the morning.

He puts his datapad back on the table and brings the lights down to 10% before he pulls the covers over the two of them. He positions Kylo’s legs so they’ll slot up between his own. It takes a bit of arranging for Armitage to figure out where to place Kylo’s arms, but he settles for a comforting hug, placing his head against the hollows of his collarbone. Kylo’s chest rises and falls, his heartbeat a comforting rumble against Armitage’s chest. 

In this moment he has Kylo. Not Ren, who’s half a galaxy away training with Snoke to complete his apprenticeship, not Ren, who’s violent and angry and can’t control his outbursts, and certainly not Ren who couldn’t care less about him. Armitage has Kylo, who’s pretty and pliant and takes whatever he’s given, and as he falls asleep he decides it is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So if it wasn’t apparent, Armitage (it is so weird to write that instead of Hux) has sex with a doll that looks like Kylo. It’s described as though it might be necrophilia, but no necrophilia happens. 
> 
> Also, this ficlet feels like a bizarre, equally lonely follow-up to [Pendulum.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6536359)
> 
> I'm on tumblr @[kyloream](http://www.kyloream.tumblr.com) and [vegetadentata](http://www.vegetadentata.tumblr.com)!


End file.
